Video Vibes: The Two Secrets to Making Videos That Don't Suck.

What I'm about to discuss are two principles of editing that I figured out seven years ago while making bmx is cute. These ideas may not be obvious, but they're not complicated or counterintuitive, and I'm amazed that no one has ever pointed out how powerful and important they are.

More to the point, I'm amazed that so many professional videographers seem to overlook or disregard these principles, to the detriment of their work.

These two principles have nothing to do with tricks, style, creativity, spots, camerawork, art direction, or the nitty-gritty of editing and production. They have only to do with that critically important, seemingly intangible quality known as "vibe."

My theory is that, when we refer to a video's "good vibes," we're really talking about authenticity. "These feel like real people," we say unconsciously. "This feels like real life."

And these two principles, as far as I can tell, are the sole determining factors for a video's vibe. Here goes.

1. Audible bike sounds.

Yes, it really is that simple. Behind the soundtrack, you must be able to hear the riding. Turn the music levels down, turn the background noise up. Crank it so high that you can hear the white noise: traffic, wind, nature. Try it. Use software to "equalize" the overall range and dampen the harshness of pegs grinding on metal.

The single most important sound in a bmx video is the whizz of 20-inch tires over pavement, plywood and packed dirt. It's the sensation at the heart of why we all started riding bmx, and it's definitive proof that bmx is cooler than trials riding or fixie freestyle. If you can't hear the tires, then you're just watching a music video.

Check out Rich Forne's Dig edit from 2012. The riding sounds are everything.

2. Faces. 

You need to choose filming angles that show the riders faces — if not at the exact moment of the trick, then leading up to the trick or riding away from it. There should be some moment when the rider's face is visible, and it's the editor's responsibility to fit this into the video. It won't always be possible, but the more "face clips" you can get into a video, the better the vibe. 

The increasingly common second-angle camera makes it even easier to get a visible face for every trick. Even if the trick isn't some first-try-or-die banger, I think it's often worth considering a second angle just to show the rider rolling away with a smile.

Faces are private and personal. This is why family portraits are so awkward and why your favorite photos of yourself are probably candid shots.

Candid moments captured on film or in video are magical, and there is no candidness without a face.

And no authenticity without candidness.

And no vibes without authenticity.

This is why your video needs faces.

As unwieldy as the word "candidness" is, it's an easier concept to grapple with than "authenticity," so I'll probably be using it a few more times before we're done here. We still have a fair bit more ground to cover.

Now, this blog post is directed at the filmers and editors on the production side of the video process. But what about riders who just don't show their faces while riding? I don't have an answer, but I do have some thoughts. 

Starting around 2006, the bmx world was introduced to a tiny kid on a huge bike with an ungodly amount of bike control named Dakota Roche. I vividly remember being blown away by Dak's stylish, aggressive riding, but even more vivid is the memory of the complete lack of a vibe from any of his early footage. With his face completely hidden behind long hair and flatbrim pulled down to his nose, I just couldn't imagine that this incredibly talented rider had a personality. I remember screaming into my own brain, What does this guy's face look like??? And I basically wrote the guy off. For years.

If you have no idea what I'm talking about, check out the Seattle scene videos Getting Loose and Second Grenade, Lotek Vancouver, and FitLife. Perhaps I'm the only person who ever felt this way.

But when Dakota finally did start to reveal his face in videos, my feelings changed completely.

Not only was it a relief to know what the guy looked like — His smiling eyes revealed a depth of character that blew me away every bit as profoundly as his riding ability once had, so many years ago.

Watch this now:


The thing I love about Dakota's riding is you can feel how hard he is working for every single clip. It doesn't simply look effortless. Rather than applying a new trick to the same old setup or hucking the same trick down more stairs, he continues to push the technical side on terrain that just gets bigger and burlier. He really is riding at the limit of his ability with complete commitment. There is something deeply personal and profoundly authentic about Dakota's riding.

I've never met Dakota, but if I ever get the chance, I know I'm going to be a complete, fawning dork. I can think of no one more deserving of a Monster energy drink sponsorship.

At the risk of putting way too fine a point on it, I'll highlight three features of the above video: visorless winter hats instead of baseball caps, the tasteful inclusion of candid non-riding "lifestyle" clips, and lots of expertly exposed footage that shows Dak's face even in the shadows. Credit for item #1 goes to Dakota, item #2 to the editor, and item #3 to the filmer (and possibly new camera technology).

(Also note the audible-yet-unintrusive bike sounds. Perfectly done.)

...

If you get the bike sounds and faces into your riding clips, you're well on your way to good vibes.

But there is one very important caveat to the faces principle:

2.1. Don't be an idiot.

This is the part where I talk about "lifestyle footy." If you're going to include non-riding clips in your videos (and I think you should), it needs to be done right. It needs to be candid.

It's easy to capture candidness in riding clips, because the riders are focused on pulling their tricks. These are fundamentally candid moments.

Filming those same schmucks off their bikes is a whole different equation.

High fives, fist-bumps, party footage, tour bus hijinks, vandalism, scenery, local characters, whatever — I'm not going to tell you what's appropriate to include. I am going to call your attention to what is potentially the most vibe-killing moment in a video. I call it "mugging for the camera."

Presumably, these dudes you're filming are your friends, they understand where this footage is going, and they're down with the camera. But that doesn't mean that it's easy to act natural with a fisheye jammed in your face.

If you stick a guy in front of a wall and film him doing nothing — a premise as ridiculous as it sounds, but a strangely common element in way too many bike videos — he may briefly maintain his cool. But the moment soon comes when he breaks character, shakes his head, and laughs to nobody in particular. You know the shot I'm talking about, right?

Same thing happens when the guy doesn't know you're filming him. There's a brief window of candidness, and then he realizes what you're doing, and he flips off the camera, jokingly.

Or he's carrying his bike up the stairs for another attempt at whatever it is, and you're sitting there with the camera running, and as he passes by, he sticks his face in the lens and makes some goofy expression.

All of those moments, which might seem "funny," are really not funny at all. What you're witnessing is just humans alleviating the discomfort of not knowing what to do while being filmed. It is in fact pure awkwardness — the opposite of candidness — and watching it makes us, the viewers, feel uncomfortable, whether we realize it or not.

(On the shooter's side, this is why Tumblr is overflowing with "street photography" of the backs of strangers heads and why the best street photographers and photojournalists are so amazing.)

That's my theory, anyway. It's up to you to decide whether any of what I'm claiming resonates as true.

For editors, the solution to this awkwardness is simple. Leave those awkward moments on the cutting room floor. While you're at it, you might as well tell your homeys not to make those stupid faces.

In fact, I'll say it for you: Hey riders, quit making stupid faces.

Sounds vs Soundtrack, Revisited.

"A video with no music whatsoever"? Hat tip to InTheGnar for Brandon Westgate's music-less part from the Zoo York video State of Mind:



...

Except it's not his video part at all, just the leftover clips. Hence the title "Extras." But thanks to my ignorance, that's how I watched it, foolishly thinking that the editor consciously, intentionally crafted this strangely epic thing, and I hope I kind of tricked you into watching it the same way, and I hope you enjoyed it as thoroughly as I did.

I mean, isn't it absolutely riveting?

For comparison, here's the actual video in its entirety. Westgate's part starts at 1:30. It's quite good, I guess, but seriously: I find the hushed patter of urethane wheels on brick infinitely more foreboding than the squonky cliched guitar riffs of Magic Man.

Street Jam Recap.

Nice turnout Thursday night. Whole buncha kids I'd never met, shredding and having a blast. Good spots, great vibes, beautiful night. Once we got the mob moving, I didn't notice anyone hanging on the sidelines. At least two broken chains, but no flat tires, no run-ins, and no significant injuries.

I only broke out my pocket point-n-shoot when I wasn't riding, which wasn't very often, so this is a pretty lazy documentary. Help with names for these photos would be appreciated.

So. Briefly:

This driveway is one of the smoothest natural flyouts in the city. The goal here was to catch a branch in one's mouth:

DFG.

Crash.

Mikl "Yellow Helmet " Baranov.


Nick Morris from Southeast was grinding everything. This Lincoln High classic has approximately a bike length of runup.


Pallets...
...Made our way to the Pearl District towards midnight. Dalton Holt from Olympia sent the gap of the evening. (Dalton has a little blog here.)


And at another historically significant Portland spot we challenged Yellow Helmet Baranov to wallride over a bike.



Nothing beats Portland in the Summer. Kids are riding hard.

who is jesse dewlow?

I stumbled upon this little web flick last night on a blog called the front. So weird and casual, I wonder if I'm supposed to be enjoying it this deeply.

Despite my enthusiasm, you should probably lower your expectations.



Jesse Dewlow is a familiar name, and Google tells me he had footy in Ruff Draft, but I don't remember any of it. I like his style and tricks, but it's the editing choices in this video that really get me: the quiet, unconventional music, the audible bike riding sounds and white noise, the multiple long takes, the crashes, the spots, the ironic windows moviemaker effects and slow-mo... It's funny but honest, precisely the emotional nuance that I try to live my own life by, but which I've all but given up on in the bmx world.

The mention of a "Toronto edit" in this post, from June, seems like a reference to the above video, which was posted in August.

Made my evening. I'm gonna watch the video again and hope that this post doesn't make me sound like a stalker.

The dvd gets its first review. (And I respond.)

A million thanks to the NoBikes blog for their kind review of our video. Please go there and read it. Since someone has now finally voiced a public response to the video, I feel comfortable saying something about my own creative intentions.


St Louis, 2006. Photo by Atika Piff. The sub rail has since vanished.

My main goal with the project was to create a video with an authentic vibe that would not give the viewer a chance to get bored. From watching a million bike videos over the years (and a million skate, snowboard, inline, and motocross vids, too), I'd come to the conclusion that the videos with the most lasting appeal were not necessarily those with the most advanced riding and definitely not those that portrayed riders as thrillseeking rockstars.

My personal favorites showcase the personalities of the riders and what they put into their riding, not just their tricks set to music. Sometimes a rider's strong personality seems to be revealed through his riding, as with Steven Hamilton, Ralph Sinisi, Mike Aitken, Troy McMurray, Ian Schwartz, Jim Cielincki, Bob Scerbo, Vic Ayala, Jeremy Davis, Jimmy Levan, Lino, Charlie Crumlish, the Enns, or Taj, to name but a few. (It's no coincidence that these are all guys I feel I could get along with outside of bike riding.)

Other times, it's achieved through the tasteful choices of filmers and editors. I can't, for the life of me, fathom why, in 2008, a producer would choose to include footage of a rider flipping off the camera. It's not merely lame--it's a fake gesture that, in my opinion, reveals the rider's discomfort in front of the camera. And I think those moments make the viewer uncomfortable and ruin the possibility of a good vibe. (More rambling thoughts on flipping the bird in this old blog post from 2006.) That Aaron would say our video has an "excellent vibe" means the world to me.


Chris Jones chain hop. Clayton, Missouri, 2006. Photo by TJ Henderson.

Beyond the simple goal of good vibes, I also had an editing/directorial/format concept in my head that I'd been waiting forever to see used in a mainstream video. I finally realized I'd have to create it myself if I ever wanted to see it. As Aaron wrote in an email to me, "I really liked how the music kind of took a back seat to the riding/background noise in a lot of that; not sure if that was your intention but it was definitely rad."

The sound was very intentional, and I'm psyched that Aaron noticed.

I recall watching some snowboard movie that was all shot on 16mm film. The cinematography was beautiful, but the only audio was the musical soundtrack. Then there would be a couple of 3ccd video clips mixed in, and those shots would have sound, and I would get a sudden surge of adrenaline at how comparatively real those moments felt.

Another time, Terry Gross was interviewing the director of The Bourne Ultimatum, and he talked about the work of the sound engineer. He described how important it was for the different international shooting locations to have their own distinct atmospheric sound character: how does a gunshot sound different, say, reverberating through crisp, empty, arctic air, versus through muggy jungle tropics, versus through angular, concrete cityscape? Sort of like thinking about the warm and cold tones that you have to deal with when color-correcting.

Those two experiences (the snowboard video and the interview) altered my awareness of sound, and when I started editing the video, I was thrilled by the raw aural textures of our bike riding footage. For a time, I even fantasized about making a video with no music whatsoever. But I figured that kind of conceptual art project would require a professional level of riding and some serious video-making clout in order to make sense. I think All Day did something similar for its intro--an extended montage of night-time lines, one clip from each of the Animal team riders. Really great, really well done. Not available on Youtube, that I'm aware of...

Since I didn't think I could pull off a video without music, I opted for tracks that were mostly pretty mellow, mostly without words--more like a film score than a music video, maybe. And I'm satisfied with the result.

So, when Aaron of NoBikes describes bmx is cute as "different," I hope people don't take it as a euphamism for "weak." And I don't believe in trying to be different for the sake of being different. We just made the video we wanted to make, a video that (I hope) represents bike riding authentically.

Thanks, Aaron. Glad you found it worthwhile.


the humble bmx is cute trailer:

too much writing, not enough riding

Not the sharpest screen grab. TJ and Ben, quite happy about something... (Update: TJ has informed me that he considers this picture immensely unflattering.)


An NPR interviewer was asking Todd Field, director of the new film Little Children, about cinematography. Part of Field's response was this line: "People don't go to the movies to watch camerawork or to listen to music. People go to the movies to watch themselves." For all I know, that may have been lifted directly from his Cinema Theory 101 textbook, but I immediately started thinking of how it would apply in bike video production.

The concept has at least two distinct facets, both directly applicable. The first is the matter of the viewer's attention: is it "better" for the viewer to notice and enjoy the production of the film/video, or should production strive for "invisibility"? For example, bike riding has its inherent rhythms, and syncing those rhythms up with a musical soundtrack isn't too challenging. When done perfectly, the effect can be immensely satisfying, on an almost primal level. However, I also notice myself anticipating the beat--a portion of my attention is inevitably wondering, "Is the next shot going to sync up?" One could argue that, in this case, the production is a distraction. Camera angles that are overly clever can distract in the same way. "Wow, what a great angle," I sometimes catch myself thinking (instead of "Wow, what great riding").

The most perfect example of "invisible production" that I know of is Steve Machuga's part in Transylvania by Ty Stuyvesant. When the part finishes, it's as if I'm waking up from a dream, every time--I realize that I was completely absorbed in the video. The music (Pink Floyd), the angles, the editing all stay hidden in the background, emphasizing the riding. I don't know how Ty did it, and although I consider it a significant accomplishment, I recall someone complaining that the video put him and his friends to sleep. Funny.

While I find this "invisible production" question interesting, and while the issue is critical for Hollywood filmmakers, I think I enjoy high-quality production of bike videos almost as much as high-quality riding. (However, production quality probably needs to be carefully matched to riding quality. See if you can sit through this very well produced trailer for an upcoming "bike video." I can't.) This actually brings me right to the second point, but it's a little bit complicated to flesh out. I appreciate it if you've read this far. You've a ways to go yet. The reason I love good production and good riding is not that I want to be amazed--I love these things because of the effort involved.

Bmx is different from mainstream sports because (among other things) there is no acknowledgment for your accomplishments--no audience, no endzone, no glory, and no opponent except yourself. And we kill ourselves for what? That a select sub-culture will understand why a "hard 180" is hard? This ridiculous dichotomy--the price paid and the reward earned--is the proof of our love. Or perhaps its proof of the "artness" of bmx. In addition to the scars, scabs, and premature arthritis, we dedicate our time and money, refining the skills of shooting photos and "filming" [with videotape]. Believe me, I notice, I get psyched, seeing a locally-produced video with properly exposed 3ccd footage and no heads chopped off. I love multiple angles, and I love catching sight of another filmer or photographer, or the flash of a camera, or hearing the whirr of a motor-drive. I love footage of riders shaping quickrete trannies, waxing ledges, and sweeping public parking lots. (Jason Enns's 411bmx bio is excellent, and I can't believe I don't own a copy; catch him sledge-hammering a pesky curb for wallride access, hauling a home-made picnic table from spot to spot, fashioning a 20-foot runway of sandbags and plywoood up to some monster wooden handrail in the middle of the countryside, and trimming the same rail with a battery-powered skill-saw.)

Perhaps the most powerful proof of effort is crashing. I don't intend to sound sadistic, but I have difficulty appreciating riders that never crash. If they're not crashing... how can they really be riding at their maximum ability? I want to see the trick that took Corey Martinez twenty attempts to pull. Then we would know what the man is capable of.

Effort... Well, I'm not very good on a bike, and I crash a lot. I suppose a great deal of riders crash a lot, but many pros seem able to go a whole Metro Jam with little more than a light bail. (That's a relevant distinction, too: crashing vs bailing.) This is where I return to my starting point--that we watch videos to see ourselves. Bmx is not easy for me. I have difficulty identifying with pros for whom riding is absolutely effortless.

Consider the facial expressions that people make after pulling a trick. If the rider maintains a cold, tough grimace, or turns and flips off the camera, the non-verbal message is "I'm not breaking my cool, 'cause that was easy." Alternatively, a rider pulls his trick and a huge smile breaks across his face: "That was hard. I can't believe I did it."

the old SK8>BMX cliche.

There seems to be a maturation timeline for any given youth movement, and skating has a whole decade on bmx. Their creative figures are older, their participant base is far larger, their image is established and marketable, and the money at stake is huge. (As a side note, Dig has always been a powerful reference point for the progression of bmx culture, something I'm proud to be associated with and to show people, and I'm immensely pleased that it is finally taking root on the shelves of American bookstores. As a teenager, stumbling across a new issue once a year was a charge of adrenaline, and never failed to cement a little part of my otherwise nebulous bmx identity.)

I learned something new about myself when I saw, for the first time, maybe 1999, the Zero video Misled Youth. Jamie Thomas's part expressed something that I'd always felt but never articulated. Baba O'Reilly became my secret internal soundtrack, not that my feebles and manuals were worthy. I pedalled fast and pumped hard. Here it is on Googlevideo. Jaime's part starts at 11:20.

Some time later I stumbled on Tiltmode: Man Down, and had my internal soundtrack altered once again. This video is practically the opposite of anything done by Zero. No slo-mo, no metal, no angry/angsty punk. The video is instead upbeat, happy, and playful. Whereas I was used to seeing antics in Roadfools and in the credits of bike videos, these guys pulled off their silliness without affectation. Not sure if it's true, but that's what I thought then. The video is longer than it needs to be. I would always just watch the first fifteen minutes and then go ride. I'd be so fired up, I could hardly stand to wait any longer. Tiltmode.

I still love both, and I keep both the Who and Aha on my ipod now, but there's a lot of other stuff on there, too.